Chapter Text
It becomes quickly apparent that Marcy is not just staying put in Newtopia. Sasha and Grime catch wind of Marcy’s activities while finishing up a small bounty hunting job - less bounty hunting, really, and more what Grime refers to as “private conflict resolution.” While dining in the inn that evening, Grime had once again been approached by someone who claimed to have seen another creature like Sasha. Sasha is never the one approached about these matters, partially because she is very good at radiating an aura of “do not fucking talk to me” and partially because in spite of the fact that people have constantly seen her talking with Grime, the general consensus is she’s a very clever trained pet and not like, a real person. It annoys her - infuriates her, even - but it is occasionally useful to have people think she’s stupid, so she lets it slide until it stops being useful.
The story goes like this: there’s a town three days’ journey to the west that is one of the primary agricultural producers keeping the people of the region fed. The town, at least according to the news they have, recently suffered an outbreak of some variety of plague - one that’s bad enough, and disruptive enough to regular production, that the capital had sent the Night Guard to help contain it. The commander of the Night Guard is, rumor has it, a pale-skinned newt without a tail. Or, Sasha thinks, a human - and Anne, last time she checked, isn’t exactly “captain of the Night Guard” material. It goes without saying that as soon as Sasha realizes Marcy may only be three days away, she insists they leave right away.
Grime is less than enthusiastic. “Lieutenant, the Night Guard is an elite force of the Newtopian army. You and I are currently wanted by the very same army.”
“But it’s Marcy! ” Sasha says, as if that explains everything. “If she’s really a captain of this Night Guard, she might be able to clear our names!”
“It’s possibly your Marcy.” Grime says, patiently. “It is also possibly deception, or possibly an actual newt missing their tail.” He pauses, then concedes, “I suppose newt tails do generally grow back over time, come to think of it.”
Sasha hasn’t considered deception - it is hardly a secret they are both still wanted criminals (even if no toad would ever consider turning them in, and more than a few frogs and newts might think twice about it too), and it is even less of a secret that their reputation is starting to proceed them. They have, in fact, already had one job turn out to be a trap - so maybe Grime has a point. Sasha does not like this fact at all, and she likes the fact that someone may have figured out they’re looking for other humans even less. Most of all, Sasha hates the way she’s so willing to take this risk.
“What if we…” she’s well aware she might sound desperate, “what if we just… go there quietly. Check it out. See if it’s… see if it’s her. We don’t have to get involved, we don’t have to even enter the town, just, please , Grime,” and there’s a slight tremor in her voice, “ please . I need to know.”
Grime holds Sasha’s gaze for a few moments, then sighs. “Very well, Sasha. But we will not approach her unless she is alone, is that clear?”
I can’t make that promise , Sasha thinks, but she nods. “Clear.” she says, thinking it won’t be we anyway. Just me.
They strike out for the town the next morning - another concession on Sasha’s part, helped along by the fact that she cannot deny she sleeps easier in an actual bed. As they walk, Sasha thinks about the very real possibility that she’ll see Marcy in only a few days and tries to figure out just what the hell she’s going to say to her.
“Hey Marcy, I know you’re working for the King and all but do you wanna join our plot to overthrow the government?” Eh, probably wanna wait to bring that up.
“Hi Marcy, you haven’t talked to Anne, have you because if you have I swear I didn’t know she cared about those dumb frogs that much, I probably wouldn’t have tried to kill them if I knew.” Admits fault, probably a bad move. I bet even if she did see Anne it’s not like Anne would’ve told her all the gory details. Anne never goes into detail about stuff she’s uncomfortable about, and I assume she’s uncomfortable about us swordfighting on the top of a crumbling tower.
“Marcy! Good to see you! Hey did you know that not being able to see you for three months has made me realize just how much I want you around like all the time? On another totally unrelated note, would it be weird if I kissed you? ” Strong start, decent followup, gets her on our side, maybe leave out the stuff about wanting to kiss her? Maybe?
“Copper for your thoughts.” Grime says, glancing sideways at his very obviously distracted lieutenant.
Sasha startles, just a little, and attempts to play it cool - a skill she was, once upon a time, extremely good at. “Oh, just uh… you know, running through some different scenarios in my head.” She clears her throat and changes the subject. “Have you ever been to this place before?”
“Not this town, no.” Grime says, shrugging, “But these places all tend to look about the same, honestly. They’re designed settlements.” A disgusted look crosses his face. “ Colonies .”
“Woah, sounds like kind of a sore spot for you, Grimesy.” Sasha says, glad to have something to continue to get off the subject of… hugging Marcy and never letting go what she was thinking about earlier. “I take it you aren’t a fan?”
“No,” Grime rumbles, taking the bait, “I am not.”
“Why?” Sasha asks, innocently (not innocently at all, she’s dodging the whole Marcy thing).
“Long before I was born,” Grime says, “these lands were all governed by toads. We had our settlements, which sprang up organically. Mostly, we were nomads. When the newts decided to expand their empire, we were civilized .” He spits, disgusted. “They brought these planned settlements, and in return, we were given the option to serve the Newtopian Empire or die. Not much of a choice, if you ask me. They built these settlements on the bones of our old ones, overwrote our history, and took their tax of food and treasure so they could live comfortably in Newtopia.”
Sasha digests this information quietly. “Guess it makes sense you’d want to kick the King’s ass, huh?”
“Yes.” Grime replies, and falls silent.
Sasha gets the feeling that she’s opened some old wounds, and goes back to her own thoughts. Annoyingly, they keep being drawn back to the inevitable: just what the hell is she going to say to Marcy after months of separation? What will Marcy look like? Sasha herself is wearing armor and carrying a sword - Marcy is supposedly a captain of the Night Guard, which a Grime informed her is a sort of group of peacekeepers who specialize in dealing with things like monster attacks and, apparently, plagues. Does that mean Marcy’s going to also be wearing armor? Carrying a sword? Sasha’s put on a not-insignificant amount of muscle since she started training with Grime, is Marcy going to have muscles now? Anne hadn’t really looked that much different physically, but Anne was already fairly toned thanks to all the sports she played. Why am I thinking about this so much? Sasha thinks, knowing perfectly well why she’s thinking about this so much. She’s blown it with Anne - Toad Tower was an unmitigated disaster, beyond some extremely fond memories of hanging in her quarters before everything went to shit, and Anne, Sasha is pretty sure, doesn’t need her anymore. Given the rumors she’s managed to collect about Marcy, it’s likely Marcy doesn’t need her anymore either.
Sasha does not sleep well the first night. The Tower is always in her mind, but more than that, there’s the gut-wrenching feeling that she’s never been a particularly good friend. She’s been a leader , and she’s been a protector, and depending on who you asked she’s been a rebellious influence , but a friend? Sasha’s beginning to wonder if she never really knew what friendship meant in the first place. She put her foot down on the top of the tower, forced Anne to choose between her and the frogs, and because that choice also included letting one of the frogs die , it was way too obvious what Anne would choose. In hindsight, anyway.
So okay, Sasha decides, she’ll try a lighter touch with Marcy. The one thing she knows for certain is that if she loses both of them - Anne’s not lost, she reminds herself, she just doesn’t understand I was trying to get us out of here - it’s going to break her, because what it boils down to is that apart from Grime, Sasha doesn’t have anyone else. She could find some minions easily enough, sure, but Anne and Marcy are one of a kind. They’re her girls (and oh, if they asked, she’d be theirs, wouldn’t she?).
She marches faster the next day, in spite of the fact she’s tired - if she can just drive herself past the point of total exhaustion maybe the dreams will treat her a little more kindly. Maybe her brain will stop spinning out more and more doomed scenarios. Maybe she’ll stop thinking about… yeah. All that other stuff.
Grime marches along without complaint or much comment - it is not uncommon for the two to go for long periods of time without talking, each left with their own thoughts. Sasha wonders, sometimes, if Grime regrets breaking his word at the tower - deciding he would execute Hop Pop regardless of the fact that Sasha had, after all, lost the duel to Anne. She doesn’t bring it up, of course - but she can’t help being curious about it. Grime has, after all, proven to have his own code of honor, so she has to wonder: what kind of pressure was he feeling with the valley rebellion that it made him disregard it so easily? Sasha hopes against hope that Grime doesn’t feel regret about it, because knowing it’s possible means it’ll be easier if she has to resort to equally underhanded means to get her and her friends home.
Grime disappears for a few hours when they make camp. Sasha is gathering firewood and comes back and he’s nowhere to be seen. She suppresses the feeling of panic he’s finally realized he’s better off without her, he’s leaving her, he doesn’t need her either, everyone leaves, she’s not worth sticking around for and assesses the situation. There’s no sign of struggle, and no note, and no visible tracks beyond a set of footprints in the grass. Grime’s hammer is gone too, and she thinks that maybe she’s being ridiculous and just went hunting, calms down, takes a deep breath, and tries to center herself. When Grime returns, he’s covered in mud and seems like he’s either had a revelation or seen a ghost.
Sasha considers not asking what the hell’s happened for a surprisingly long time - nearly a full fifteen seconds. “What uh… what’s with the mud?”
It seems like something in Grime’s brain reboots. Sasha watches his eyes refocus, then flick to her. “Ah, sorry. I should have said something. There are… places in this region that toads revere. Sites of old battles, old shrines, that sort of thing.” He pauses for a moment, then continues. “Before we left, I… heard there was one such place along our path.”
“You could’ve told me.” Sasha says, doing a much better job of keeping her voice level than she would have a few weeks ago. “I might’ve wanted to see it for myself.”
Grime looks legitimately uncomfortable. “Experiencing these sites traditionally requires… ingesting certain mushrooms. It is something only those past a certain age are permitted to perform.” He scratches at his beard and adds, “To be honest, I’m not entirely certain what they would do to you. Human physiology is uh, well, it’s not toad physiology.”
It takes a second for what Grime’s saying to sink in. “Wait, you’re telling me you wandered into the fucking woods and got stoned? ”
Grime blinks slowly. “I went to seek wisdom from my long-dead ancestors.”
“You’re still stoned.” Sasha mutters, shaking her head. “I can’t believe this. I cannot fucking- do you understand how important making it to this town before Marcy leaves is? ”
“Sasha,” Grime says patiently, “we are still a day’s journey out. There was time, and opportunity, for me to perform the sort of rite I have neglected for too long.”
There’s something he’s holding back, and Sasha knows it. “Bullshit. What aren’t you telling me?” The expression on Grime’s face is all the confirmation she needs to know she’s right, and it breaks her heart a little. “I thought we agreed, Grime. No more secrets.”
Grime rocks back like she’s slapped him. He takes a deep breath. “I am… sorry, Sasha. You are right.” He takes another breath. “The shrine nearby is dedicated to a failed rebellion. The uh, the one I was a part of.”
“Wait,” Sasha says, “you’ve led a rebellion before?”
“I wasn't in charge of that one!” Grime says, a little defensively. “But yes, as I told you once before: when I was much younger, I participated in a rebellion. We didn’t do too poorly, either. Unfortunately, we were betrayed. Our cause was infiltrated by Newtopian agents who fed us false information. We were led into a trap and either slaughtered or captured. I was among the captured, obviously.” Grime chuckles and traces the scar over his eye. “They gave me this as a souvenir and tossed me into the gladiatorial pits to die or win my freedom. Which I won.”
“Obviously.” Sasha nods, a little surprised that Grime’s gone into so much detail this time around. Then again, he is still very clearly under the influence of whatever the hell those mushrooms did to him. “So you were…”
“Renewing a vow I’d made.” Grime says. “To succeed where we’d failed before. I confess, I’d been content to rule from Toad Tower, but clearly fate had other ideas. Between your arrival and this unrest in the valley, I believe it is a chance to right a wrong.”
“Never took you for a fatalist, Grimesy.”
“Some things,” Grime replies, “are out of our control. Some things are.” He gestures to the warhammer on his back. “When you choose to fight, you change your fate. But your fate could be to take an arrow to the eye and die ingloriously, or it could be to shake the very foundations of the world. But neither fate will happen unless you go meet it.”
“You didn’t go meet me, though,” Sasha counters, “and I just wanted to get home, not co-lead a rebellion.”
Grime nods. “Ah, but certainly you can trace the decisions that led you from your land to this, can you not?”
Which yeah, Sasha can’t deny that. She could have let Anne go meet her parents for her dumb birthday party, but Sasha wasn’t ready to let Anne go. Resented, maybe, just a little, the fact that Anne had (well, still has, to be fair) parents and family that do things like throw lame birthday parties. Wanted to have her and Marcy around just a little longer before she had to go home. Yeah, that’s turned out great so far. Now Anne hates her, and Marcy’s… well, Sasha supposes she has no idea what’s got Marcy potentially involved in… plague management or whatever the hell.
“Yeah, okay, I guess you have a point.” Sasha allows, although she’s really not entirely sure what the point is beyond ‘sometimes fate is a thing that exists and sometimes you can change it.’ The two eat, and Sasha calls it an early night; Grime, who nearly fell asleep during dinner, promises he’ll be up bright and early in the morning for the final day’s journey and falls asleep almost immediately. Sasha’s up a little longer, thinking about Grime’s rebellion and fate and whether or not there’s some outside force that meant she was always going to end up in Amphibia, was always going to lose Anne. It doesn’t make for a restful sleep.
They encounter a group of toads headed away from the town the next day - a family of three. The oldest is hauling a cart with what Sasha assumes is all their possessions. Grime waves to them and asks where they’re headed.
“Nowhere in particular.” the patriarch replies, shrugging. “Wherever the path takes us.”
“What’s the situation in town like?” Sasha asks. She’s got her hood up - it very rarely pays for her to be recognizably human - but the family gives her suspicious glances anyway.
“Poor. It has become a quiet power struggle between different factions. The frogs have taken the plague as a sign of the corruption of the Newtopian rule. The newts see it as a result of a too-free hand by mayor Boös.”
“And the toads?” Grime asks.
“We do as hard experience has taught us to do. Withdraw and return when the dust settles. You’ll find friends in the fields, should you seek them.” The patriarch’s gaze falls on Sasha again. “Perhaps you too will find a friend in town. Another like yourself is there, working to find a cure, or at least prevent further spread. We,” he indicates his traveling companions, “were not interested in waiting to find out. They do not see the dangers brewing around them, focused as they are.”
Sasha feels a spike of anxiety. Of course Marcy wouldn’t suspect anyone around her. She’s never been good at people, and a mysterious plague is just the sort of thing that would hold her attention completely. She composes herself before she replies. “I suppose I will find out soon enough what fate has in store for me,” she says, adopting a more formal tone “and meet it head-on.”
She doesn’t see the proud look Grime shoots her way, but the patriarch’s eyes widen in surprise. “I did not expect to find a follower of the path who is so… curious in appearance.”
“Fate makes fools of us all, from time to time.” Grime says. “Good luck on your journey. May you find better fortune further along the road.”
The patriarch bows slightly before giving a grunt as he begins pulling the cart. The other two fall into step behind him. Sasha doesn’t spend time watching them - she resumes marching, pace a little faster now.
I’m coming, Marcy. Just hang on a little longer.